


3. By Now

by somepeoplearewild



Series: Ever After Oneshot Series [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Feels, Heartache, Heartbreak, Love Confessions, M/M, Requited Love, Romance, Unrequited Love, verbal conflict, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepeoplearewild/pseuds/somepeoplearewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is jealous of Zayn’s girlfriend. Niall decides to move out after a confession, but when he comes back to get his stuff, Zayn thinks he’s ready to make Niall stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3. By Now

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me yet. There's more to this. Like middle. There's middle but it's going to be in the 6th one-shot Porcelain.
> 
> Also, I owe a lot of thanks to my dear friend Alex (you can find her by clicking the heart on my tumblr). She really put a lot of work into helping me out when I was having trouble writing. She's probably more responsible for your feels than I am.

**“Our talk is small, I'm seven inches tall**   
**And you should keep the apartment**   
**So here's my keys, changed all the bills**   
**We're only built to spill**   
**And wonder where the heart went**   
**And you've been taking me for granted”**   
**By Now – Marianas Trench**

                Zayn was a friend of a friend, who was meant to be a one night stand but turned into a bit of a constant and a hell of a life ruiner for Niall. Because Zayn is pretty, and Zayn is chill, and Zayn likes to drink, and Zayn can’t do math but he can understand Shakespeare, and it’s like the world hates Niall or something because Zayn is pansexual but he is not _Niall_ -sexual.

So when Zayn turns to Niall for a flatmate and bats those long, pretty eyelashes at him, Niall knows he fucking done for. But he says yes to the unrequited chocolate to his chip.

Sadly, as it turns out his chocolate chip wants a raisin. That’s not to say she’s wrinkly or she’s been out in the sun for too long—she’s definitely not been out in the sun enough if her tan keeps rubbing off on _everything_ —but nobody likes raisin cookies. Or at least Niall doesn’t, therefore this analogy is spot on because Niall doesn’t like her _at all_. She has this stupid name like Akita, which is so misleading because she’s so white girl her A*Teens CD collection bought her a Conair hair crimper for their biannual friend-a-versary. And Niall doesn’t like her hair either. It’s too long and it sheds like a fucking dog. And she puts ketchup on everything—What? Are Niall’s chicken strips not good enough for her?

Niall stabs his spoon around in his McFlurry definitely not pretending it’s Akita’s _face_ or anything. He wouldn’t drink her face. In fact, he can’t be far enough away from her face, which is why he still fidgets as he sits alone in McDonald’s at least ten blocks away from where Fuckface and Fuckette can’t keep it down.

Yes, Niall should love that he now knows the noises Zayn makes when he’s _busy_ , but he really doesn’t because it’s that bitch and the several places she’d let Zayn poke into that’re making him moan, and Niall knows he can do it better (unless ‘it’ involves having a vagina. He pretty much fails that test).

“Niall, go _away_ ,” someone groans from behind him. Niall turns around to find Louis in his official McDonald’s employee polo and black slacks. He looks like a right tosser, and it brings Niall just a little bit of joy to watch Louis wipe down the table behind him with this sour look on his face like he could punch Niall for even daring to show up at his place of work.

“Why?” Niall smirks around his straw, giving Louis a look that’s supposed to be condescendingly innocent.

“It’s so embarrassing. Go away.”

“Or what?”

Louis slaps the rag against the table, stopping completely to throw burning napalm at Niall with his eyes. “Or so help me god I will tell everyone on campus you’ve got genital herpes.”

“Nice seeing ya! Got to go!” because Louis _will_. He’s a bit of a conniving bitch like that, but isn’t it what makes Louis so loveable as well?

Niall strolls down the sidewalk. Actually, strolls isn’t the right word. He dodges inconsiderate assholes on the sidewalk as he makes his way back home. Surely, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Slut couldn’t _still_ be going at it.

Though he’s right, the universe wants everything to feel so fucking wrong when he hears girlish giggling and Zayn’s stupid chortle through the door as he slides his key into the lock. He rolls his eyes and slips in, holding onto his McFlurry like it’s all he’s got for love these days.

He hopes he can ninja his way into his room before either of them knows he’s home, but of course this bitch, half-fucking naked, just has to be right in front of him shrieking and folding her arms over herself. Zayn’s in the background not giving a fuck and just looking generally edible in his black boxer-briefs.

Niall tries not to stare (at Zayn’s skinny ass mocha latte caramel Hollister body) and calmly walks to his room like nothing’s wrong even though he kind of wants to reach down next to the door, take the pair of trainers there by the laces and beat the shit out of her. Once again, Zayn’s best interests come first, so he doesn’t and just breezes past the both of them.

When he gets to his room, first he inhales his ice cream, then he sets the empty cup on his dresser and flops onto his bed like the big ball of pathetic he is. He knows he’ll have to get up and make dinner and wash the dishes and scrub the floors and sweep the chimney and feed the chickens, but it’s just three in the afternoon and they don’t have a chimney or chickens and hell if he’s getting on his knees for anything other than Zayn, so in reality he hasn’t got that much to do except keep his emotions in check… and US history reading. Why is he paying to be subjected to this hell, again? It seems he’s forgotten.

[][][][]

“Custer, jump on it, jump on it,” Niall sings quietly to himself as he reads about the Battle of Little Bighorn. He bops his head gently, then his fingers get to tapping, then he’s snatched the drumsticks off the edge of his desk and he’s rapping for the screaming crowd in his head. He hops up onto his feet and hits his hips from side to side like Britney Spears circa 1999.

A quiet chuckle interrupts his private jam session causing him to drop his sticks.

“Gotdamn!” he scolds, more so himself than Zayn for not knocking.

“I knocked. Three times. ”

Niall groans in shallow agitation, recalling one of their rules of flatmate-dom: _After the third knock, assume he’s dead and pick the lock._

“I hate that rule.”

“At least you weren’t wanking this time. I’m convinced you want me to see your penis.”

“Over your dead body.”

“Freaky kink. Although still not quite as disturbing as Akita’s Google history.”

Niall’s expression sours at the mention of her name. She’d been gone for at least an hour, and he’d almost forgotten about her existence, but fucking no as soon as Zayn starts to show any interest in Niall’s penis she has to be brought back the fuck up.

Zayn notices the look on his face, that and Niall vocalises his frustration with an exasperated groan. Zayn sighs and leans against the doorframe— in pants this time— but damn he still looks so good with his eyes squinted like he’s deeply affected that it hurts Niall’s heart.

“I don’t get why you don’t like her.”

“Same reason I don’t like I Killed My Valentine.”

“I Killed the Prom Queen and Bullet For My Valentine,” Zayn corrects mindlessly.

“Whatever,” Niall huffs, frustrated, and covers his face with his hands. “I just don’t like her, okay?”

Niall gets up and starts snapping school books shut and piling them roughly on the corner of his desk, not in the mood anymore to deal with Zayn’s stupid girlfriend or the stupid names of some stupid shit bands.

“Well, even if you don’t like her you should at least be considerate of my feelings for her. I’m getting really sick of you looking at her and her friends like they’re the scum of the earth.”

Niall refuses to look at Zayn as his emotions begin bubbling to a crescendo. Instead, he gathers his pens and highlighters, chucking them in the general direction of his books. He regrets speaking out about Akita, not wanting to push Zayn into this metaphorical pool of lovesick angst— he knows Zayn can’t swim— but he’s about ready to snap his model-skinny neck. “ _I_ should be considerate of _your_ feelings?” He shakes his head and chuckles without humour. “Fucking rich, Zayn. That’s fucking rich.”

Zayn cocks his head in an adorably puppy-like way, and his expression’s so genuinely lost that Niall wants to point him in the right direction with a pitchfork. “What- What do you mean?” He moves closer and places his hand on Niall’s shoulder, detonating the emotional bomb that is Niall Horan.

“You should know by now!” Niall shouts and Zayn flinches. He shoves his hand away. “You should fucking know.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to respond. He looks so taken aback that normally Niall would tease him about his face, but right now is not normally. Right now, he’s hurting so much more than normally. Right now, Zayn can see that Niall’s kept secrets. Niall’s kept the worst of himself locked up inside for too long.

Niall concentrates at the floor. He’s drenched in shame, but it feels like fire under his skin. “I can’t stand her,” he starts out quietly, a burning conviction encased in his tone. “I can’t look at you together. I can’t listen to you talk to each other—you about her.” His words become a mess as he tries to swallow a feeling too great. “I can’t- I can’t watch her-her friends be around you— talk about how perfect you are together. Fuck. I can’t- I can’t stand it any longer! She’s fucking superficial- and watch her leave!”

Something in Zayn coils defensively. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

 “You deserve a hell of a lot better than her.”

“Fuck that, Niall! Why can’t you just be happy for me?” He scoffs. “Some friend you are.”

Niall sucks in violently. He finally looks Zayn in the eye, keeping his lips twisted crossly though his eyes water. “Some friend I am, yeh? Some idiot I am for loving you. You and your eyes. I love your eyes. And your hair. And how you bitch all fucking morning about doing it. And your music, even though most of it goes over my head. I still listen to it because you love it. And I love you,” he chokes out in a pathetic sob. “But…” Niall cuts himself off, shaking his head as he moves forward in panicky haste. He can’t do this. He rushes to his backpack and dumps it out.

He begins going through his drawers and packing. He throws in some shirts, shorts. He cleans off his nightstand, just putting into the bag whatever his scrambled mind deems logical.

All the while, Zayn’s leaned against the wall for support, completely baffled. He hadn’t known. But it all makes sense now, all those times Niall replied _how high?_ It’s all so clear. All makes sense. It all makes sense. And that final processing of information hits Zayn like a tonne of bricks, knocking him back to reality.

“Niall…”

He turns, but the room is empty. And his chest can only tighten when he hears the front door slam.

[][][][]

**“How've you been? Can I come in?**   
**Just came to get my things and then I guess I'm leaving**   
**If I could say what you'd like to hear**   
**I'd whisper in your ear it's only temporary**   
**But I've been taking you for granted”**

 

Zayn startles awake from his half-slumber on the couch at the sound of the front door being unlocked. He peaks over the back of the sofa, face shaded by the six am darkness. His semi-relieved eyes anxiously follow Niall’s figure as he moves across the room to his bedroom door. He looks… _different_.

Zayn hears shuffling in the room and decides to check it out. He needs to talk to Niall anyway— _has_ to talk to Niall. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, too caught up with replaying Niall’s words and thinking up some of his own.

When he gets to Niall’s doorway, however, he’s stricken with an inexplicable pain in the chest at the sight of Niall’s suitcases laying open on the bed. Niall himself is on his knees, bent over to dig in the bottom of his closet.

Niall pulls out another bag and inspects it in triumph. Not many people go into Niall’s closet and live to tell the tale.

Zayn shifts awkwardly, kind of wishing he could snatch the bag out of Niall’s hands and kiss him. But reminds himself that he’s happy with Akita; that it isn’t what he came to do.

“Um.” Zayn frowns at the pitiful sound that comes out of him, not caring that Niall does hear him because he wants to say a lot more than ‘um’ before Niall runs away again.

Niall offers him a half-smile and _oh_ _that’s it!_ Niall doesn’t look afraid anymore. He looks comfortable again. But then why is he still packing?

Zayn gets little more than a step into the room before Niall’s holding up his hand to stop him.

“I’m fine—better at least. Just came by to get my stuff.”

“But…” Zayn drops off, unable to formulate words at the moment. He just stands there staring at Niall like he wants to wake up now. This could all be a very bad dream because he’s known from the start his girlfriend would leave eventually, but he’s never imagined Niall would.

Niall sighs and stands up. Zayn notices Liam’s Cambridge hoodie, the way it swallows Niall and makes him look like a cuddly duckling, and really hates the way it makes him feel. Before yesterday, he wouldn’t have given it a second look, but now he’s looking. He’s aware of Niall. He’s aware of the blue eyes, of the pink lips, of how Niall’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace while Zayn can barely breathe.

“I’m not… walking out of your life, Zayn.” _the sound of my name when you say it_ “I just need space.”

But how much space does he need? Does he need rooms? Apartments? Streets? Cities? _Countries_? How far from Zayn does he need to be? And for how long?

Zayn nearly crumbles at the idea of never seeing Niall’s face again.

“I’ll be at Liam’s.”

He _does_ crumble at realness of at least for now. His sinewy arms fly around Niall’s shoulders. His face pushes into the scent of Liam’s house and he realises with a shaky breath that this will be Niall’s scent soon. Niall won’t smell like Zayn’s cigarettes and Zayn’s cologne anymore. He’ll smell like fabric softener and Liam’s body spray.

They stand in a long silence, Zayn wrapped around Niall rejecting reality and Niall holding Zayn like it’s the last time.

It is.

 


End file.
